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The world the Six-Fing Thing inhabits is a strange one. Blue civilizations
are born and collapse in a splash of technicolor sound, gypsy caravans
tinker with sputtering Moog synthesizers as they wind through mountain
passes. And the legion of chimps previously hammering at typewriters
in attempt to replace the works of Shakespeare are now fiddling with
pneumatic musical devices of unknown origin to rewrite Stravinski.
Six-Fing Thing, the musical alter ego of visual artist James Cobb,
creates sprawling, sometimes jagged, soundscapes that defy easy catagorization.
A single piece can move between the angularity of a lost Captain Beefheart
track, a Lamonte Young-style drone and into naturalistic ambient sounds
before culminating in a horn-driven squall.
Combining composition, improvisation
and aural cut-and-paste Six-Fing Thing navigates between musical
poles set in a shifting world that cannot physically exist but should.
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